


First Night

by Rheanna



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Ficlet, Gen, Post-Movie, Wordcount: 100-1.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-31
Updated: 2009-05-31
Packaged: 2017-10-05 09:23:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rheanna/pseuds/Rheanna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Swoosh.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	First Night

"You're like a kid with a new toy," McCoy says, and Jim shrugs and grins a wide, drunken shit-eating grin at him, all aw-shucks corn-fed Iowa wholesomeness. But McCoy knows him much too well for that, and just snorts in derision as he nudges the empty bottle of Alderan brandy away. "I'm turning in," he says, getting up from the table. "You should, too. Can't make command decisions on insuff -- insiffic -- not enough sleep."

McCoy makes his way toward the door, weaving and side-stepping in a way which is wholly unnecessary, since it's the middle of the night and they are the only two people in the Enterprise's recreation lounge.

The door swooshes open as McCoy approaches, and then swooshes closed again behind him. It's a good sound, Jim thinks, a comforting sound, a reliable, honest sound. Almost musical.

"Swoosh," he echoes. "Swoosh," he says again, and then laughs to himself, because McCoy's right: he's got it bad if he's even fallen in love with the noise the doors make.

Then he blinks, taken aback at the word that's wormed its way up from his subconscious. Funny how easy it is to apply to the Enterprise, how snugly the label fits what he feels about this ship. What he's felt, if he's honest, since the moment he first saw her floating suspended at her mooring, all elegant, clean lines and limitless potential.

The doors swoosh again, and when Jim looks up, McCoy's back, a dark silhouette framed by the hallway lights. "Go to bed," he growls. "I mean it, Captain."

Jim tosses a sloppy, ironic salute at him. "Aye aye, Doctor." He stands up, and is pleased that he only has to lean a little on the table top to achieve the vertical.

McCoy grunts, apparently satisfied, and turns to go. He pauses and looks back once more. In a softer voice, he says, "It'll all still be here in the morning, Jim." Then he yawns hugely and staggers off.

He's right, of course. The Enterprise is Jim's now, his ship today and tomorrow and -- he can feel it deep down -- all the days that follow. But he can't imagine that any night will be sweeter than this first one.


End file.
